wings like a curtain of moss hanging from a tree bowed and weathered by the sea's salt breeze. wings like thinly sliced geodes, vast sparkling crescents, shedding crystal shards with each beat wings like hair drifting in water, held together only by the barest affinity
wings like a curtain of moss hanging from a tree bowed and weathered by the sea's salt breeze. wings like thinly sliced geodes, vast sparkling crescents, shedding crystal shards with each beat wings like hair drifting in water, held together only by the barest affinity
wings like magnets dipped into screws and knives and bolts and ferrofluid, vast shifting conglomerations of scavenged metal wings like stealth bombers, like passenger airplanes, like wandering drones—wings shaped by unknown forces, built for a place that is not here.
wings torn out of the world by the force of an angel's manifestation, their body forever linked to the trauma they have endured and inflicted—dripping blood and ash and flame, screaming faces and twisted metal, the infernal screeching of a dying fire alarm. be not afraid.